Tis true that deep Within her heart,
you thought was mine I knew beat yours.
I might be southern and a hick
but know the difference tween a
turtle and it's brothers gopher hole.
You think me dumb, I am you see.
Around your circles I have run
the more I see you run, I won't, you will.
Your wood upon my fire was placed,
by you to burn as mine disgraced,
not wise of you I found within my
cotton field
I grew you bought with her to sell
replanted and to spread it far and wide
each heavy bag, you try to sell to me
against each burning field and blind.
No I'm not that Quick I wait,
for miles and miles and hot your smile
in her on me and 'Judge' you washed it
white a Picket fence so 'dear' away.
My end of time, old 'Mummy' lives around
the bend, upon your court house steps
from him she wears upon my wrist, her sin.
Sweet southern man I am no thanks to you.
We beat both side of the same sheet that
hangs between,
each candy 'Apple' red Corvettes two seats.
R.L.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
WOW, made me think a lot! a great read.I'm a hick too.